


Night has always pushed up day.

by stelleappese



Series: Wallander [3]
Category: Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleappese/pseuds/stelleappese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Magnus was really beautiful like that. In a sad, beyond reach kind of way. Like the sea during winter. Looking at him filled Kurt with longing, but he wasn't sure what exactly he was longing for."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night has always pushed up day.

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is set during season 2.  
> As always, feel free to point out any mistake I might've made :)

They had a party every year. Nyberg, Ann-Britt, Lisa, Kalle. Magnus looked terribly happy when they started inviting him too. Kurt usually forgot about it.  
When Nyberg realized he'd have to spend the evening listening to Magnus ranting, he rushed in Kurt's office, grabbed Magnus, who was saying something about footprints and dogs, by the shoulders, and kicked him out, shutting the door after him.  
“What the hell?”  
“Svedberg is dead.”  
He said. Kurt wondered if he'd gone crazy.  
“I kind of noticed that.”  
He knew Nyberg wasn't the most... tactful of people, and he was mostly used to his ways, but this particular topic still hurt.  
“You're coming to the party on Saturday night.”  
“What does this have to do with...?”  
“I don't want to hear it. You're coming. I'll pick you up personally.”  
Then he stood up, shoot Kurt one of his best menacing looks, and left.  
Magnus peeked through the door.  
“Can I come in now?”  
Kurt nodded.

Kurt had never thought of himself as a person with all of the answers. He was mostly unsure of everything, as it should've been, since his whole job revolved around the constant questioning of things.  
He was pretty positive, though, of one thing: Magnus Martinsson had no idea when to keep his mouth shut, and, if given the opportunity, he would just gossip for hours; So he was pretty surprised when, during the party, Magnus just ate in silence and giggled from time to time to something Nyberg said.  
“It looks like I tortured you for nothing.”  
Said Nyberg, filling Kurt's glass with red wine.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, I thought Martinsson was going to torture _me_. I should've seen this coming, really.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Said Kurt again, and felt a little stupid. But he was already pretty tipsy, so he wasn't expected to show a rich, or even just adequate, vocabulary anyway.  
“Martinsson and Svedberg were like Peters and Norén.”  
“Who?”  
“Dammit Kurt, the guys from traffic.”  
“Yes, of course, those guys.”  
Kurt shoot Nyberg a lost look. Nyberg sighed.  
“They were buddies. Always gossiping like middle aged housewives.”

“Oh.”  
Said Kurt, and suddenly, it hit him.  
Nyberg was, of course, right.  
Kurt had never been too friendly at work, especially during an investigation, and when Magnus had just arrived to Ystad Kurt used to send him to Kalle for everything. So, of course, they ended up becoming close friends.  
He felt a bit guilty.  
He'd been so busy worrying about his own pain that he totally forgot other people must've been suffering too; Especially Magnus.  
How on Earth could he have been so damn blind?  
He gulped down the rest of his wine.

He sat on the balcony, listening to the sound of waves crashing on the shore, feeling that, for somebody who needs to discover stuff for work, he was pretty damn clueless about a lot of things.  
He should've known from the very first moment, when he and Magnus had found Kalle's body. The way Magnus froze, unable to even blink, the way he had to call him a couple of times to get a reaction.  
He'd shot the bastard, for fuck's sake. Kurt had been trying to calm down Linda, yes, but he could've at least asked Magnus if he was ok.

He was about to doze off when Magnus stepped on the balcony.  
“Is everything fine?”  
He asked. Kurt blinked a couple of times, then yawned.  
“I wouldn't fall asleep out here. You would probably be lucky to only lose a couple of toes.”  
Kurt snorted.  
“Well, aren't you a cheerful one.”  
Magnus shrugged. He took a couple of steps towards the railing, and stood there, staring thoughtfully at the dimly lit shore.

Magnus was really beautiful like that. In a sad, beyond reach kind of way. Like the sea during winter. Looking at him filled Kurt with longing, but he wasn't sure what exactly he was longing for.  
Above all, Kurt wanted him to be fine, because he could almost feel Magnus' pain in his own solar plexus, and he wouldn't wish that kind of sadness on his worst enemy.  
And Magnus... Magnus looked so delicate, so fragile. Kurt wanted to make it better, but he had no idea how, so he kept looking at him.  
He liked the way Magnus was always, absentmindedly, pouting lightly. He made Kurt wish he could feel Magnus' lips against his teeth.  
Kurt blinked again, wondering why on Earth he would think something like that. It was probably the wine. But he really wanted to. He suddenly pictured Magnus squirming underneath his body, mouth open, eyes staring at Kurt, watery, wanting.

Kurt felt his pants getting tighter. He threw his coat on his lap, trying not to panic.  
“Are you all right?”  
Asked Magnus, frowning.  
“You look pretty flushed.”  
“It's the wine!”  
Shouted Kurt, making Magnus jump.  
“I'm sorry. I mean. It's the wine.”  
He repeated, trying to look a bit calmer.  
“Yes. Of course. Maybe you should drink something. I'll go get you a glass of water.”  
“That would be fantastic, thank you.”  
Magnus shoot him a look and went back inside, and Kurt started breathing deeply, forcing himself to calm down.  
Magnus was a colleague. Thinking about colleagues in compromising situations was extremely unprofessional. It was definitely not ok. He wondered what he looked like naked, because he was really thin, but he looked fit enough when he wore tight shirts, and... Wait. No, definitely, definitely, not ok! 

'All right Wallander' he thought, deciding he was going to ignore the spark of panic he could already feel rising, 'Magnus is going to come outside, you're going to drink your water, and act like a decent person.'.  
So, of course, when Magnus arrived and sat next to him, Kurt drank like a good boy.  
And then he put a hand on Magnus' shoulder, leaned closer, and kissed him.  
He licked his lower lip before biting it lightly. Magnus' lips were so soft, and for some reason knowing how good it felt made Kurt feel way worse.  
He moaned miserably when Magnus pushed him away. For some reason he felt like something horrible would happen, like the world would implode if he stopped kissing Magnus.

Magnus didn't yell or hit him, and for a couple of seconds Kurt really thought he would. He just held him at a distance, looking at him like he was trying to figure something out.  
“I... uh...”  
He realized his hands were still on Kurt's shoulders and moved them away.  
“I think you should go home.”  
Kurt nodded.  
“I'll give you a lift.”  
Kurt wasn't expecting that, but he nodded again anyway.

It wasn't until he was sitting on the passenger seat, the streetlights flashing in and out of sight, the radio buzzing almost too lightly to be heard, that he started feeling really, really, bad. He was so deeply ashamed. He was a grown man, and he'd acted in such an immature way.  
He wanted to apologize, but he was too embarrassed to say anything. He was sure he would make a fool of himself, if he tried. Again.  
Plus, the wine made him really dizzy, and his stomach was turning. He just hoped he could hold on until he got home before feeling sick.  
And he did. Well, he wasn't inside yet, but the front yard counted as 'home', didn't it?

 

He woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. It felt like his brain was trying to escape his damn head through his eye sockets.  
He lay on the bed for a while before he realized his clothes were neatly folded on the chair underneath the window, and his shoes were right next the door.  
Then he noticed the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

The table was set for one. There was a plate with four slices of bread with ham and cheese, a glass or orange juice, a plate with a still empty red mug with a cinnamon roll on the side, and, almost like a tactful reproach, a glass of water with an aspirin right next to it.  
Magnus was waiting for the coffeepot to fill up. He was dressed differently, which meant he probably went home for the night and then came back later. He smiled at Kurt when he saw him, even though Kurt felt he didn't deserve a smile at all. He probably looked like hell. Maybe Magnus was just smiling out of pity.  
“Do you take sugar in your coffee?”  
He asked, grabbing the red mug.  
“You really don't need to...”  
“I'll take that as a no.”  
Said Magnus, pouring hot coffee in the mug.

“This bread tastes different.”  
Said Kurt, awkwardly.  
“I know. I make it at home. My Grandma used to always make it, so I asked her to teach me. I never could get used to any other kind.”  
Magnus bit his lip, unsure.  
“Don't you like it?”  
Kurt almost chocked on his food.  
“No. I mean, yes, of course I do.”  
He sipped his orange juice. The aspirin was doing its job, and his head wasn't aching that bad anymore.  
“Listen...”  
He said, not entirely sure what he was going to say.  
“I'm... I'm sorry I kissed you.”  
Magnus looked totally emotionless. Kurt felt uneasy.  
“It was disrespectful and unprofessional. I shouldn't have forced you to do something you obviously did not want to do.”  
He stood up, gathering the plates and empty glassed and walking towards the sink.  
“I'm sorry you were drunk.”  
Whispered Magnus.  
Kurt set the dishes in the sink and turned to look at him, surprised.  
Magnus' eyes met his, and there was no way to misinterpret that look. 

Magnus' eyes had always looked so innocent. Even when he was pissed off he had this totally non-malicious look about him. But now, God, now he looked so _hungry_.  
He'd been leaning against the counter, now he stood straight, moving forward towards Kurt, and there was something in the back of Kurt's head that was screaming at him, telling him to step back, to say something, to stop Magnus, because that was a really bad idea, but Kurt didn't want Magnus to stop.  
His lips were already slightly opened, welcoming, when Magnus pressed his own against Kurt's.  
Kurt moaned against Magnus' lips, pushing his tongue in his mouth, licking the roof of Magnus' mouth and digging his fingers through Magnus' curly hair.  
He felt Magnus' fingers trace a line across his forearm. He brushed his thumb against Kurt's pulse before intertwining their fingers together and sucking on Kurt's lower lip.  
Then he pulled away, and Kurt felt something very close to panic. He opened his eyes, looking at Magnus, wondering what was going on.  
He looked confused and hurt, and Kurt had no idea what just happened. Magnus raised his hand, still holding Kurt's, and brushed his middle finger over Kurt's wedding band while pulling his hand away.

He stood there in silence for a moment, while Kurt was still trying to register what happened, then he rubbed his own shoulder miserably, and turned away.  
“Wait...”  
Said Kurt, weakly, following him.  
“Wait. Magnus...”  
“I'm sorry.”  
He said, putting on his coat.  
“I'm truly sorry. Please, pretend this never happened.”  
He shot Kurt a sad look and opened the door, getting out before Kurt could say anything else.

Linda called him later that day, sounding particularly cheerful.  
“I was wondering if you had plans for lunch.”  
She said.  
It felt good, hearing her voice. She sounded so pleased. Kurt felt the sudden urge to be near her, to hold her and cuddle her as he did when she was still a child.  
“I don't, actually.”  
“Finally! I want you to meet Jamal properly.”  
Oh. 

He'd met Jamal once before, briefly. He was extremely polite, and seemed like a kind man.  
It made Kurt feel ashamed noticing how he still felt weird about him, like an alarm went off in his head as soon as he lay eyes on him, like the color of his skin was enough to make Kurt feel threatened.  
His headache was coming back. He forced himself to smile and keep the conversation going, and as much as he wanted to be right there, taking an interest in Linda's life, he also wanted to talk to Magnus. He wanted _Magnus_ to talk, really, he wanted him to tell him what was wrong, and how Kurt could fix it, if he could.  
He realized Linda was asking him what he thought about Jamal, and his brain went completely blank. He ranted awkwardly for a minute before ordering himself to just get it together.  
“As long as he makes you happy.”  
“'As long as he makes me happy', what's that supposed to mean?”  
“Sweetheart, I like him. I suppose he's not what I expected, that's all.”  
Then his phone rang. Because, of course, there was no way for him to have a weird day get better and then manage to actually _stay_ better.

 

The days that followed didn't exactly feel like hell, but they did feel very damn close to it.  
He'd been a police officer for more than twenty-five years, but it rarely ever happened to him to witness such violent, mindless crimes.  
He supposed he was getting old. Times were changing. Sweden wasn't the isolated, sheltered place it had once been.  
He felt so drained, so tired and sad and, yes, even scared, that Magnus averting his gaze was enough to make him give up the idea of talking to him. He looked nervous and weirdly stiff, like he was putting too much effort in trying to look like nothing had happened.

They went on as usual. Kurt running around, most of the time totally clueless, and Magnus stuck in front of his laptop and checking whatever anybody asked him to check.  
Kurt's father was getting worse, Linda was sure Kurt was a racist, and he was almost totally sure somebody in the Station had been leaking information to the press.  
He wanted to punch somebody. He felt like a ticking bomb, like he was one more damn bad piece of news away from exploding.  
“If you're hoping to get away with a random killing, why do you steal a car from a quiet residential street in the middle of the night under a row of blazing streetlamps?”  
He tried to keep his voice down, because he was sure he was about to start screaming.  
“Because you're, like, really devious.”  
Said Magnus, coldly.  
Oh, yes. There was also that. For some reason, Magnus was angry at him.

Then, the final 'piece' of news arrived. It _crashed_ against him, actually. Hard. It made him shook from head to toe.  
He would never have thought he would, in all his life, kill somebody. It was against everything he'd ever believed in. He was sure someone, even one of his colleagues, thought that some people just deserved to die, that he was justified, but Kurt didn't see it that way. It was not his place to take a life. There was no such thing as a reason good enough to take somebody's life.  
But he'd done it.

Nyberg tried his best to cheer him up, to convince him that there he couldn't have done anything else; But Kurt still felt soiled. Corrupted.  
He sat in the living room, once he got back home, staring at nothing. Linda called, but he couldn't listen to her voice without desperately wanting to burst into tears.  
There was a knock at the door. He really wasn't feeling like answering, but he went anyway.  
Magnus didn't say a word. He just looked at Kurt, not with the sad and confused look of the day he kissed him in the kitchen, or the frustrated look that followed Kurt around from a distance during the days after. He looked like he was trying to read him. Kurt swallowed, his expression slightly more open, more vulnerable. He wondered just how hurt they had to be to let themselves lick each other's wounds.  
He would let him. If Magnus wanted to read him, he would let him. And Magnus would be able to, because he already knew what to look for. Maybe that was it. Magnus knew. He understood.

“I don't.”  
Kurt said, and it surprised him to hear himself speak.  
“It was because of the wedding band, wasn't it? I don't. Love her, that is. I did once, of course, but I don't.”  
Magnus blinked.  
“Why do you still wear it, then?”  
“I miss seeing the lights on in the living room when I park the car in front of the house.”  
He said. He'd never told anybody. He'd never even wanted to admit it to himself.  
“I miss having somebody waiting home for me when I come back from work. I miss those times. I guess I'm holding on to that. But I don't love my ex wife.”  
“Good.”  
Said Magnus.  
“Good.”  
Then he cupped both hands on the sides of Kurt's face and pulled him closer, pressing his lips against Kurt's.  
His lips were cold. Kurt made a point to warm them up.

He'd thrown away the couch and still had to buy a new one, and the bedroom felt like miles away, so they ended up on the floor of the living room.  
Magnus was on top of him. He wouldn't stop kissing him, alternating between sucking on his tongue and biting his lips, and one of his hands was between Kurt's legs, stroking him gently through the fabric of his pants. Every stroke made Kurt buck his hips towards Magnus, asking, silently but desperately, for more.  
He could feel Magnus' erection against his thigh. He tried to move against him, give him some friction, and Magnus moaned so beautifully against Kurt's mouth for a second he thought he was going to lose it just from that.  
Kurt placed a hand on the back of Magnus' head, pushing him closer for a deep, slow, kiss, and let the other hand wander around his body, stopping to grope Magnus' ass. Magnus grinned against Kurt's lips.  
It had been so long since anybody touched him like that, it only took the feeling of Magnus' fingers against the naked skin of Kurt's cock to make him arch and come, gasping for air and trying to stop his body from shaking.  
“Do you need me to...?”  
He managed to say, but Magnus shut him up with a sloppy kiss and rubbed himself against Kurt's thigh a couple of times more before hiding his head in the hollow of Kurt's shoulder, breathing heavily and trembling lightly.  
“God.”  
He said, his body suddenly completely relaxed over Kurt's.  
“The last time I came in my pants I was seventeen.”  
He panted, then started giggling against Kurt's neck. It tickled. It was a nice feeling.  
“I swear I'm usually better at this.”  
Muttered Kurt, staring at the ceiling, starting to feel sleepy.  
“It's all right, we'll do this properly next time.”  
“I'm not sure I know how to do that. With a man, I mean.”  
Magnus tilted his head back to press a light kiss against Kurt's throat.  
“I will teach you.”

They'd fallen asleep like that, curled up on the floor. Kurt woke up to his back aching, and Magnus' hair tickling his nose. He looked so peaceful, Magnus, and Kurt wondered what kind of wounds he was trying to heal having sex, or something really close to it, with him. Because he was sure of it. Magnus certainly didn't want Kurt for his dashing good looks. He was so young. He _looked_ so damn young just now, his face relaxed, one hand against Kurt's hip, the other gripping tightly Kurt's shirt.  
Almost sensing Kurt's thoughts, Magnus sighed softly and opened his eyes, looking up at him with sleepy eyes and smiling a bit, stretching in a really weird way, wrapping his whole body around Kurt's. He didn't look so sure about wanting to wake up. He placed his head more comfortably against Kurt's chest and let a hand trail over his ribs.

And, just like that, Kurt knew this couldn't work. Not now, at least.  
He knew he would just forget about everything while he was with Magnus, he would feel perfectly fine, like he hadn't done anything horrible, like he wasn't dirty and cracking. But it would come back. His eyes. The sensation of panic. It would come back. And Kurt would end up breaking Magnus. He didn't want that.

He kissed Magnus on the bridge of his nose.  
“You should wake up.”  
He whispered, straightening one of Magnus' curls just to let it go and see how it would bounce lightly and go back to its original shape.  
“I don't want to wake up.”  
Mumbled Magnus.  
“You're comfortable.”  
“There are murderers on the loose.”  
“There could be aliens on the loose.”  
Said Magnus, but he lifted himself up anyway, yawned theatrically, and rubbed his eyes.  
His shirt was a bit crumpled, raised on one side, revealing a bit of pale skin. Kurt felt the need to push him down on the floor again and jump on him, map his whole body with his fingertips, with his tongue, but he forced himself to stop looking and stand up.

 

After the case had been resolved, Kurt allowed himself to think that maybe, maybe, he would be fine. Then he stepped foot in the police station, and reality struck him pretty hard.  
It was too much. All the noise, all the weapons. He felt his knees go weak, the blood drain from his face. It took all of his willpower to reach the table and set his badge in front of Lisa. He had a lump in his throat, and he was sure he was going to start crying like an idiot if he tried to open his mouth.  
He didn't want to look at Magnus, but he could feel his eyes on him. He hoped Magnus wouldn't follow him.

He did, though; He stood up and followed him up to the parking lot, where he put a hand on Kurt's shoulder and made him turn, facing him.  
“Please don't do this.”  
Said Magnus, his eyes so desperate and confused that Kurt almost gave up. But he couldn't. He couldn't do it.  
“Let me help. Tell me what to do.”  
He would go anyway. He had no other choice, not really. But he let himself lean against Magnus all the same, resting his forehead on Magnus' chest for a second. And Magnus wrapped his arms around him. He couldn't believe such a delicate looking person could have such a strong grip.  
He let his hand follow the curve of Magnus' spine for a second, then he stepped back. He expected Magnus to try to hold him still, but he let go as soon as he felt him move away.  
“You don't have to do this, Kurt.”  
But he did have to. He couldn't bring himself to look Magnus in the eye.

 

The weeks after he left were a blur. He actually couldn't remember most of what happened. He traveled around a bit, drank too much, added some more mistakes to his personal list. He'd thought staying in Ystad would be the death of him. It turned out he was actually his own problem.  
He finally found some sort of peace in a guest house in Denmark. He was weak and tired when he got there, but on the first night he was already, finally, sleeping like a baby.  
The guest house was so quiet, still, it felt like time had stopped, and the early morning mist made the impression way much more palpable.  
He missed Linda, he missed his Dad, but he knew they would both ask questions. Linda would try to get him to come back, and his father would most likely scream and mumble at him until they both got angry and hung up.  
He missed Nyberg's snarky remarks, and Ann-Britt and the way she always knew how to calm him down, and _hell_ he missed Kalle, he wanted to talk to him, he wanted to hear his opinion, let him tell Kurt how a normal person would act.  
And Magnus. He wanted to hear his voice. He wanted to explain, but he'd never been good with words. He wanted Magnus to look at him in that sleepy way again, to moan against his lips, he wanted his hands on him.

Then Sten found him.

He'd seen Magnus angry before. He'd seen him pissed off and frustrated, but he'd never seen him furious. He spoke slowly, his voice low, but his eyes could've killed him. He wondered how much more he could stand before punching Kurt in the face and start yelling at him.  
Kurt felt so small under his gaze, so guilty. And he was feeling physically sick. Like he was going to black out any minute now.  
He wanted to help. It had been his fault, after all, he'd just needed to pay attention to what his old friend was telling him instead of worrying about his own well being. He _needed_ to help, or he would never be able to forgive himself.

He was half naked when Magnus opened the door of his office and stepped in. He looked at him, confused, then closed the door and made a face.  
“Hm. What the hell are you doing?”  
“I'm drying myself.”  
“Obviously.”  
“I wasn't expecting you for another hour.”  
Magnus nodded.  
“I don't need to go over my notes, I know what happened. I wanted to talk to you.”  
Kurt put his shirt back on and sat down.  
It felt like when he was a kid ad school and he'd just pulled some prank on one of his classmates, and had to sit at his desk after class and wait for his teacher to start screaming at him.  
“I wish you could just talk to me.”  
Said Magnus, staring at him.  
“Why do you have to make everything so much worse than it is?”  
“I killed a man.”  
Said Kurt, weakly, then realized how stupid that sounded. 

Because, of course, Magnus had killed a man too. For Kalle, and for Kurt too. He saved Linda. He saved his baby. He saved Kurt's life. He was sure that, had Linda been killed, he wouldn't have been able to go on. And Kurt just left. Ran away, like he always did.  
He wanted to tell Magnus just how much he needed him, but he was scared he would just leave. It felt a bit better, not knowing if Magnus really hated him or not. He could pretend there was a chance everything could go back to normal, that they could pick up that whole story where they'd left it.

“Will you let me help?”  
Said Magnus, and Kurt looked up at him, daring to let himself hope just a little bit.  
“If anything is wrong. Will you tell me?”  
Kurt nodded, and Magnus seemed to be satisfied with that.

At least, they went back to some sort of distant, civil enough, sort of relationship. Magnus acted in the most professional way possible, but Kurt noticed the way he looked at him, like he was waiting for him to finally give up, to crack in front of them all.  
But Kurt was fueled on work, and that had always been the best way to keep him sane, even though it also managed to consume him from the inside, most of the time.  
He pushed himself, and pushed, and pushed, he felt like his own soul was tensing to the point of breakdown. And then, finally, when Elin's car exploded, killing her, he did crack.

He remembered calling Magnus, but he wasn't sure what he'd told him.  
The door was open, so Magnus came in right away, and stood in the living room door, looking at him without a word. The television lay on the floor, along with his easy chair, a lot of torn pages, and a handful of Kurt's antidepressants.  
Kurt was sitting against the wall, all curled up, and Magnus stepped slowly towards him.  
“Are you all right?”  
He asked, kneeling in front of him. Kurt shook his head.  
“Would you like to tell me why?”  
He put a hand on his knee and squeezed soothingly. His eyes looked so damn beautiful.  
Kurt started talking. He had no idea where his speech was going, and most of the time he was just blabbering helplessly and repeating the same things all over again, but Magnus didn't seem to mind.  
He told him about the guilt. All of the guilt. Towards Sten, and Kalle, and his own family, and even Magnus. He told him about how all the things he saw during work seemed to slither under his skin, to poison his mind. He told him about what happened during his trips, and asked for forgiveness, because fuck, Magnus was too good to understand why he would do anything of the sort.  
He wanted to cry, but it always made him feel weak, even though most of Ystad had probably already seen him cry one way or the other.

Then Magnus went to get him a glass of water, and it was so strange how it only took Kurt a brief look, a tiny little question somewhere inside his eyes, for Magnus to understand.  
Magnus stood in front of him for a second, glass in hand, then he was against Kurt, the glass forgotten somewhere on the floor, his hands working to unzip Kurt's pants.  
“No, wait, wait, I want...”  
Said Kurt, and then he was pushing Magnus against the parquet, undoing the buttons of Magnus' shirt so clumsily he managed to tear a couple.  
He started to apologize, but Magnus wrapped his legs around Kurt's waist and rubbed himself against him, and Kurt forgot what he was about to say. He didn't take Magnus' shirt off, he just opened it enough to lower himself on him and start kissing his chest, one hand spread open against his ribcage. He ran his tongue against one of Magnus' nipples and felt him tense and sigh. He let out a moan when Kurt started sucking on it.  
When Kurt moved away to plant little kisses all the way down Magnus' stomach, he pushed himself up on his elbows to look at Kurt. He let out a deep, quivering, sigh when Kurt started pulling down the zip of his pants.  
Kurt took a minute to just look at Magnus, once he'd set his pants and underwear aside. He seemed so vulnerable, and he looked like he knew it perfectly, but he had no intention to try and stop Kurt from doing anything. Kurt put both his hands on Magnus' knees and made him spread his legs, just to look, to mark it all in his head. How his hair was darker down there, but still blond; how the muscles in his thighs were tensing; how his cock looked like, flushed and almost completely hard against the pale skin of his belly.  
He was beautiful. In such a delicate, sculpted way, it almost scared Kurt.  
What did _he_ have to give to Magnus?

He was starting to feel doubtful again when Magnus raised a hand and brushed his fingertips against Kurt's shoulder, and that was enough to make him stop thinking and lower his head between his legs.  
Magnus let out an alarmed noise and Kurt looked at him, unsure.  
“I'm sorry.”  
He said, blushing.  
“I wasn't expecting that. You know you don't have to, right?”  
“I want to.”  
Said Kurt.  
“I'm not entirely sure _how_ to do it, but I do want to.”  
“That's all right.”  
Whispered Magnus.  
“Just don't bite.”  
Kurt smirked at him.  
He started just kissing the shaft, licking here and there, tentatively. He knew how _he_ would've liked to have this done to him, but he was pretty sure Magnus was too big to take all the way in, so he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and kissed the tip, twirling his tongue around the head, under the foreskin. He started moving his hand up and down, trying to follow the same rhythm with his head.  
He squeezed his lips coming back up, sucking just a bit harder, and never stopped working his tongue over the tip of Magnus' cock, but he was still sure he was doing a really poor job.  
Then Magnus shivered and sighed, almost as if he couldn't control his own body anymore, and _fuck_ the sounds he made, moaning and whimpering between broken gasps.  
He pushed himself down on the floor, almost like it took a lot of effort not to buck his hips towards Kurt's mouth, and when Kurt looked up, unsure, Magnus had his eyes closed and was biting his lips, hard. Kurt brushed a finger against his entrance, just to see what Magnus would do. He felt him jump, and saw him open his mouth without letting out any sound before tilting is head back and pushing his hips up, not too hard. Kurt stopped moving over his cock, but kept massaging his hole, and let Magnus push inside his mouth and spill against his tongue after two, three shallow thrusts.  
Kurt swallowed, making a face when he straightened up.  
“Ew. Bitter.”  
He said, and Magnus laughed softly, sprawled on the floor, one arm covering his eyes.  
“I'm sorry about that.”  
“Was it good?”  
“I thought that was clear enough.”  
Said Magnus, sitting up with a groan, grabbing a handful of Kurt's hair and making him tilt his head to bite his neck lightly and then start sucking on his skin, humming pleasantly. He pushed his nose behind Kurt's ear and scraped Kurt's chest with his fingernails.  
“My turn.”  
He said. Then both their phones started ringing.

He wondered, while talking with Ann-Britt and Magnus, if she could see the way Magnus' eyes softened when he turned to look at him. And as, again, the pieces of the puzzle they were investigating started to fit horribly together, he tried as hard as he could to just think about that. The world was a sick place, and Sweden seemed to be doing its best to catch up with it. But Magnus kept touching him, lightly, in a really casual way, and he looked at him as though he was trying to tell him something, to remind him that they had unfinished business to attend to, so that they could start over again.

Magnus dropped by at his house, the evening after they solved the Torstensson case, announcing he'd finished the paperwork and that he'd bought popcorn.  
“My television is broken.”  
“I know, I've brought my laptop. Get some pillows.”  
They sat on the floor, again, moved the coffee table and set the computer on it. They watched, wrapped in blankets, an animated movie about a grumpy old guy and a really annoying little kid. Kurt was about to ask Magnus if he needed to read anything into it, but he'd already fallen asleep, his head against Kurt's shoulder. At least he didn't have to watch Kurt cry for the fourth time since the movie started.

 

During the following weeks, nobody was killed. So Lisa ordered them to engage in a really exciting revision of about three tons of papers.  
Magnus kept coming back home with Kurt after work, but they never did anything too sexual, mostly because they were so damn tired they fell asleep as soon as they stopped moving.  
So, after the fifth time Magnus slept over, Kurt bought an extra toothbrush and an extra razor-blade and placed them on the bathroom sink. Magnus held him particularly tight, that night.  
He also woke him up way too early for a Sunday morning, and dragged him to Ikea to look for a reasonably comfortable couch to buy, but they had to stop halfway through it because Kurt kept dozing off.

“If you slept like normal people do, you wouldn't spend half of your waking hours feeling like hibernating.”  
“I get all the sleep I need.”  
“Nine hours?”  
Kurt looked at him blankly.  
“Hm. Four?”  
They exchanged a look. Kurt smirked, and Magnus shook his head with a small laugh.  
“You're sleeping nine hours tonight.”  
“And how do you plan on making me do that?”  
Magnus shrugged, suddenly looking weirdly innocent.  
“I'm pretty sure I know a bunch of ways to tire you out.”  
Kurt was going to ask him to elaborate when his phone rang. It was Gertrude, asking him to come over his father's nursing home.  
“Do you want me to come with?”  
Asked Magnus, but Kurt shook his head.  
“We do need a couch. See if you find anything you like and we'll come back as soon as we can, all right?”  
Magnus nodded and pressed a quick kiss against Kurt's lips. It felt so weird, Magnus kissing him in public. He could very well get used to it.

His father was getting worse, he could see it clearly, but he also looked much more relaxed, much more peaceful.  
Kurt asked Gertrude if she wanted him to stay over and help, but she shook her head and smiled of that kind smile of hers, and she said she was going to sit with him.  
“Find someone to sit with you.”  
His father suddenly said. Kurt wasn't sure why. He'd never really bothered telling him this kind of things.  
“You're not strong enough to do it on your own. Find someone to sit with you.”

Magnus was waiting for him just outside the station.  
“Got ourselves a case?”  
“Yes.”  
Said Magnus.  
“I guess this means we'll have to reschedule our plans for tonight.”  
He added, lowering his voice.  
“Hopefully we'll be able to add the new couch to the equation, by then.”  
“I did find some good ones. I took pictures.”  
They were interrupted by somebody honking his car's horn like his life depended on it.  
“Nice. They're stuck again.  
“Again?”  
Snorted Kurt.  
“If we can't control the parking outside our own bloody station what's the point?”  
“The driver thinks he's got a missing person for us.”

“Povel's dead.”  
Had said Gertrude, and it felt like the world had suddenly fallen on his shoulders. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true.  
He tried to shook him, he yelled at him, but nothing happened.  
He felt so damn empty. Hollow. Like somebody had carved out everything that once filled his chest.  
He woke up cold, every bone in his body aching dully, to the ringing of his phone, but it wasn't until he heard Magnus' voice that he realized what happened.

He kept running all over Ystad the whole day, trying as hard as he could to avoid as much human contact as possible. He felt guilty not answering Magnus' calls, but he felt like if he heard his voice, that voice, the one he used when they were together, he wouldn't break down.  
He didn't think Magnus would get mad, he knew he'd understand. And he certainly didn't think he would find him dressed for the funeral, the next day.  
“You're not going there by yourself.”  
He said, with the matter-of-fact voice he always used to tell him about license plates and footprints.  
“You don't have to do this. Linda is coming.”  
“I thought she would. But she will also go straight back, won't she?”  
Kurt nodded weakly.  
“You said you would tell me. You don't have to do this alone.”  
He nodded again, and suddenly he actually felt kind of scared to be alone. He knew himself too well. He would just let go, if given the opportunity, and he didn't want to.  
“Thank you.”  
He said. Magnus put a hand on the back of Kurt's neck and squeezed lightly, sending shivers down his spine.

He'd thought about it for the longest time. How it would feel like, meeting Inga again. It felt like glancing at a whole different life. For a moment, he thought maybe he'd lied to Magnus, maybe he still felt something for her. But no, he was sure it wasn't that. She was just the symbol of a life he would never get back, even more so now.  
He still drifted towards Magnus, without even thinking about it. He wondered if Linda would notice. She always noticed. She always knew everything about Kurt before he could even stop to notice himself.  
Linda did look surprised when she saw Magnus, but she just hugged him and smiled, as always.

“Why do you still wear it, Kurt?”  
Asked Inga, and it took him a moment to realize she was talking about his wedding band.  
“I don't know.”  
He said. And he didn't. Not really.

While Inga and Gertrude were waiting for Linda in the car, Kurt heard her ask Magnus to take care of her Dad. They both looked at him. Seeing them together made him feel better. His chest was aching, but it wasn't empty anymore. It almost seemed to him it was so full it was about to burst open.  
“I will.”  
Said Magnus.  
He took his hand, once they were left alone, and didn't let go until they reached the car.  
Magnus grabbed him while he was going to get in the car and pulled him away, announcing he was going to drive.

They couldn't have been on the road for more than ten minutes when it happened.  
“Stop the car.”  
Said Kurt. Magnus looked at him, worried.  
“Please stop the car.”  
The car hadn't even stopped moving when Kurt jumped down, taking four, five steps into the field on the side of the road before falling on his knees. He couldn't breathe. He didn't want to go home. He'd always felt so alone in there. He had no idea what to do.  
Magnus knelt beside him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer.  
“It's going to be fine.”  
He whispered.  
“You're going to be fine.”  
“Don't leave me. Everyone always leaves.”  
“I'm not going anywhere.”  
He shifted between Magnus' arms, hiding his face against his chest, and started sobbing without being able to stop.

He had to pull himself together pretty soon, though. The murderer was still on the loose. It wasn't until much later that night that he could just sit down and take a breath.  
Magnus had to work, and Kurt really didn't want to go back home, so they ended up in Kurt's office.  
Kurt watched Magnus for a while, his expression focused. The whole room was filled with the tapping sound of the keyboard and the occasional quick clicking.  
“Maybe we should forget about the couch.”  
He said, suddenly.  
“I'm guessing our spines won't be happy about that. Or our asses.”  
“No, I mean... I could buy a house. Somewhere out of the city. With a fireplace. We could put the couch there, in front of the fireplace. And adopt a dog.”  
“What kind of dog?”  
Kurt sighed.  
“I don't know. German Shepherd?”  
“It would need a lot of space.”  
“We'd have a big garden.”  
“'We'?”  
Asked Magnus. He stopped typing.  
Kurt looked up at him.  
“Would you like that?”  
He whispered.  
“Living with me.”  
“Isn't it a bit early for that?”  
He was smiling, though.  
“We wouldn't have to do it right away. It's just an idea.”  
Magnus went back to typing, with a little grin on his lips.  
“We'll need a bathtub.”  
He said, without moving his eyes from the screen.  
“A big one.”

He felt he _had_ to save Yvonne. She was hurt. He could understand that. She was hurt and wanted other people to get hurt too. She needed to live. _He_ needed her to live. For some reason, he felt like there would be no way out for him, if she died.  
His shoulder was hurting really bad. The shock was fading, and the pain was beginning to sting. He could feel it all the way up to the side of his neck.  
And the look in Magnus' eyes. He looked like he was _burning_ with rage. He wanted her dead, Kurt could see it. He kept looking at Magnus, trying to make him understand he would be all right.  
When he heard the shot, he felt like the blood in his veins had turned into ice. He thought, for a long, terrifying, moment, that Yvonne had killed him. He felt guilty right away, when the woman stopped struggling.

“Call an ambulance.”  
Ordered Magnus to the nearest policeman, putting his gun away and crouching next to Kurt.  
He ran a hand through Kurt's hair. He was shaking. It felt weird that he should be the one shaking, since Kurt was the one with tears in his eyes.  
“You're all right. You're perfectly fine.”  
He said, hinting a hesitating smile.  
“What if I...?”  
“You won't.”  
Magnus' tone didn't leave any room for interpretation.  
“You're stronger than that.”

He let Magnus guide him away, and for a moment he thought he was going to take him to Mariagatan and go back to the station for the paperwork; instead Magnus took him to his apartment.  
In any other situation, Kurt would've liked to look around, since he'd never got the chance to see Magnus' home, but he felt so confused, so detached, like his body was moving, but his conscience had taken a step back and was just observing from time to time.  
“You're so pale.”  
Said Magnus, handing him a mug of something hot and brushing his cheek with a knuckle.  
“I'm fine.”  
Tried to say Kurt, but his voice came out in such a feeble whisper he wasn't sure he'd actually said anything at all.  
“Here, let me...”  
Magnus sat next to him on the bed and took his jacket off, slowly, and set it aside. He kept touching him. Not like when they were in public, even though he never really stopped. He would casually brush a knuckle against the back of his hand, or squeeze his shoulder, or just simply touch his arm, as if he thought Kurt needed something tangible to remember he was there. Now he touched the back of his neck, brushed a thumb over his cheekbone, there was nothing sexual about that, he was trying to soothe him, as one would do with a child who just woke up from a nightmare.  
“Why are you doing this?”  
Said Kurt, and Magnus looked at him, unsure.  
“What?”  
“Everything. Why did you even kiss me in the first place?”  
“Why does anybody do anything? I wanted to.”  
“Yes, but why did you want to?”  
Magnus sighed.  
“I suppose for the same reason you kissed _me_. I thought you could understand. We both know what living this kind of life means.”  
Yes, he did understand. Every relationship he'd had in the last twenty five years ended for the same reason, and that was his job. Magnus knew what it was like. He knew how it hunted you. It was understandable that he would choose to have a relationship with someone who would forget dates and work late just as much as he would.  
“Plus, I think the fact that I've been hopelessly in love with you since I started working in Ystad might have had something to do with it.”  
He added, with a tiny smile.  
“You what? Why?”  
“You ask more questions than a five years old.”  
Laughed Magnus, and then said, a smile still echoing in his pale blue eyes:  
“You're a good man, Kurt.”  
He said it as if that was all he needed to know. Then he took advantage of how confused Kurt was to get him under the covers.  
He sat next to him, his laptop on his legs, and started typing down something. Kurt wasn't sure how long he looked at Magnus work in silence, rubbing his eyes and biting the inside of his cheek from time to time, before he fell asleep.

He wanted to go to work, but Lisa had ordered him to rest for a while, and she'd looked particularly dangerous while she was doing so. Kurt had the slight suspicion that most of the Ystad police force spent his days waiting for him to either have a nervous breakdown or kill himself.  
Magnus told him he was going to be back for lunch, so he wasn't expecting the doorbell to ring a couple of minutes before ten in the morning. He also wasn't expecting to find Linda, on the other side of the door.  
She smiled at him and walked in before he had time to register she was actually there, and he hadn't imagined it.  
“You weren't answering your phone, and there was nobody home.”  
She said, sitting on the couch.  
“So I went to the station and Magnus told me you were here.”  
“Oh.”  
“How are you feeling?”  
“Better. I mean, good, I'm good.”  
Linda smiled again, and oh, Kurt knew that smile.  
“So...”  
Linda said, slowly.  
“Magnus.”  
Kurt sat down and tried his best not to just stare at his hands, failing miserably.  
“What about him?”  
“I thought you were going to panic when you saw Mom. But you just kept close to him. You calmed down instantly as soon as he put his hand on your shoulder.”  
“He does have that effect, sometimes.”  
“Are you in love with him?”  
Kurt nodded before he even knew what he was going to answer.  
“Well, you know.”  
Said Linda.  
“As long as he makes you happy.”  
She made a face.  
“As long as he makes me happy.”  
Repeated Kurt, with a smirk.  
“Yes. I like him, I suppose he's not what I expected, that's all.”  
Then she burst into laughter, and Kurt couldn't help but do the same.

Magnus' bed was _way_ more comfortable than Kurt's.  
The mattress wasn't hard and lumpy, as the one Kurt had at home, and the bed was bigger, which meant Magnus would have place to sleep, instead of sleeping on Kurt. Of course, that didn't matter, because Magnus actually really enjoyed using Kurt as a pillow.  
For once, he'd slept all night long. He was stretching carefully, his shoulder still hurt, when he noticed Magnus was still sleeping. It was weird. Magnus always woke up early.  
Kurt snuggled against his back, rubbing a hand against his hip, because he felt a bit cold.  
“Eight hours.”  
Said Magnus, lazily.  
“Good boy.”  
“I thought you were asleep.”  
“Almost. I made bread and then I was cold, so I got back under the covers. I wanted to wake you up to play, but I decided you needed rest more than sex.”  
“That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Nobody needs rest more than sex.”  
“So...”  
He said, turning towards Kurt.  
“Do you think people will kill each other, today? Somebody will call you, or me, or both? Something will explode?”  
He pushed a hand underneath Kurt's shirt.  
“Or maybe we'll be finally able to do this, and the world will end right afterward.”  
“Well,”  
Said Kurt, making a face.  
“As long as it's afterward.”

They never had enough time to actually get to the point. Kurt would be in the middle of slipping a second finger inside Magnus and somebody would die, literally, and they'd have to drop whatever they were doing and run.  
But from the look on Magnus' face Kurt was positive he would throw their phones out of the window if anybody tried to interrupt them this time.  
He'd told Kurt what to do, how deep he had to sink his fingers inside him before crooking them, how he had to alternate rubbing and pushing against that spot that made him arch his back and grasp the blanket, biting his lower lip not to scream.  
It wasn't easy, concentrating, with Magnus underneath him like that, and the way he pushed his head against the pillow, groaning and shutting his eyes, made Kurt want to just _take_ , without any preparation, just forget all carefulness and make Magnus show him just how gorgeously he could scream.  
But he would never hurt him. He would never take advantage of the way Magnus opened up before him, of how he let himself be totally vulnerable for him.  
Then Magnus wrapped his legs around Kurt's waist and pushed him down on him before rolling on top and looking down at him with a smirk.  
He kissed Kurt slowly, probably to be able to taste his gasp when he guided his cock against his entrance. Kurt felt Magnus' smile against his lips.  
“Try to be still, all right?”  
Kurt nodded, putting both his hands on Magnus' hips, peeking down to see him move slowly, brushing the tip of Kurt's cock against his hole. His thighs were slick with lube, and Kurt wondered, lifting himself up and resting his head on Magnus' shoulder, if he'd ever seen anything as perfect before.  
He ran a hand against his back, kissed his shoulder, humming against his skin when Magnus guided his hips down and pushed Kurt inside him, slowly and steadily.  
“God, Magnus.”  
Said Kurt, closing his eyes, pushing Magnus' hips down without even really ordering his hands to.  
“You're so tight.”  
Magnus giggled and wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulders.  
“Well, it _has_ been a while.”  
He said, huskily, without stopping moving.  
Kurt bit his lips when Magnus was finally fully seated. He thought he would stay still, get used to the feeling, instead Magnus got up, slipping Kurt's erection almost totally out, before coming all the way back down. Kurt whimpered helplessly. He could feel Magnus' body squeezing all around his cock. And Magnus was laughing again. Kurt really didn't think he could feel the vibration around him, but he did, and it filled him with shivers.  
“Please...”  
He said, without any idea what he was actually asking for. But Magnus seemed to know, and he started moving again. He let a hand slip against Kurt's chest and left it there for a second, before taking Kurt's hand in his and guiding it towards his erection.  
“Is this good?”  
Asked Kurt, brushing his thumb over the tip of Magnus' cock before going back to stroking it.  
“Yes.”  
Breathed Magnus, pushing Kurt's cock inside him just as much as he was pushing against his hand.  
He had this beautiful expression, his eyebrows curved in a pretty way, his mouth open slightly. He threw his head back and shut his eyes, and Kurt leaned forward to suck on his throat.  
He could already feel the orgasm build up, coiling inside him. He wanted to wait for Magnus, but he couldn't help it. He bucked his hips up, and Magnus let out a surprised noise right before trying to follow his rhythm. Kurt hid his head against Magnus' neck when he came, and let Magnus go on riding him all the way through it.  
He had to breathe deeply for a couple of seconds before being able to think coherently again.  
“Did you...?”  
He said. Magnus shook his head and kissed him quickly.  
“I can do it myself.”  
“That won't do.”  
Muttered Kurt, pulling his cock out of Magnus and gently pushing him down on the mattress. His hole was slick with lube and come, so Kurt's fingers slipped in easily. He took his time, rubbing and pushing against his prostate while still stroking his cock.  
Magnus kept kissing him; He could feel every gasp, every moan, vibrate against his lips. He broke the kiss when he came, spilling against Kurt's hand, but he didn't move away. Kurt felt Magnus' quivering breath on his mouth, his hand trembling against the back of Kurt's neck.

Magnus' hair tickled his face, but Kurt choose to ignore it. He liked him like that, a hand on Kurt's chest, one leg casually thrown over Kurt's hip. He liked the curve of his back, and the point where his hips and his legs met, how gorgeously his muscles tensed under his skin.  
“You really are beautiful.”  
He whispered. Magnus smiled and looked up at him.  
“Please, tell me more.”  
He said. Kurt didn't want to move and lose that view, but he wanted to kiss Magnus more.  
“You do know you're a really attractive man, don't you?”  
Said Magnus, suddenly breaking the kiss.  
“I'm an old man.”  
Snorted Kurt, trying to kiss him again, but Magnus stopped him.  
“I thought you would say that.”  
“It's the truth.”  
“It's _your_ truth.”  
Said Magnus.  
“You're gorgeous and I can't wait to fuck you.”  
“You mean... Oh. All right. That's unsettling.”  
“Shut up, I'll be good.”  
Laughed Magnus.  
“I know you will.”  
Said Kurt, and he meant it. He'd never thought he would actually _ache_ for something like that, that he would feel his stomach jump in anticipation just the idea of having somebody do to him what he'd just done to Magnus.  
“Do you feel like taking a drive?”  
He asked, seemingly out of the blue. 

He hadn't noticed, before, how peaceful the graveyard looked. He'd been so torn with pain he hadn't actually stopped to observe, but he thought that if he had to rest forever this wouldn't have been that bad a place to do it. He crouched down, rearranging some flowers in silence.  
Magnus was looking at him, a couple of meters away. He guessed he didn't want to intrude in such a personal thing, but Kurt didn't really mind.  
With his father's death, an entire chapter of his life had been closed. He needed to make sure it actually was like that.  
His father had told him to find someone to sit with, the last time he'd seen him, and he'd been right.  
Taking his wedding band off took a bit of effort, but setting it on the top of his father's tombstone didn't.  
He said goodbye to his Dad. He could still _feel_ him. He'd been too young to really miss his mother, but his father had always been a part of him, even with their difficult relationship. He could feel his shadow, right there. He knew some people still felt pain in their limbs after they lost them. Maybe it was like that. Maybe his father, like all the people he cared about, was an extension of Kurt.  
He walked towards Magnus slowly. He smiled at Kurt, but didn't say anything. They walked in silence to the car.

 

Living with Magnus was different from what he'd imagined.  
He was constantly scolding him for falling asleep on the easy chair, he forced him to eat healthy food, he listened to exceptionally horrifying music, and was peculiarly well informed about the romantic life of every possible famous person in Sweden and beyond.  
And Kurt enjoyed every single moment of it.  
He liked how Magnus would intertwine their legs while they were in bed, and how he sneaked in the shower while Kurt was in it just because he could.  
Also, he bought Kurt a dog. He tried to hide it from him during work, but he failed, so he gave him the puppy during a meeting. It was a girl, and he called her Jussi. She was so little and soft, and, obviously, Kurt wept like an idiot.

One night, while Kurt was reading on the couch, the fire crackling in the fireplace, Jussi curled up and asleep between them, Magnus said, thoughtfully:  
“Do you remember what you said about having somebody wait home for you after work?”  
“I do.”  
“Well, it's a pity I can't be that person.”  
Kurt frowned, a bit worried.  
“Why not?”  
Magnus smirked.  
“We've got the same working hours.”  
Kurt tried to hit him with the file he was reading. Magnus dodged the hit with a laugh. Jussi woke up just enough to see what was going on, then she put her head on Kurt's hip and went back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This should have been a 500 words fic! Then it developed a life of its own.
> 
> I decided to avoid to mention Peters' role in "faceless killers" because Peters and Norén are my numer two book!OTP, which means I'm pretty biased about them and will scream at people because of them. (Also, I'm not sure if they're from traffic, but it seems that's all they do, in the books :P).
> 
> Also, maybe Nyberg does have a first name, but I'm pretty sure even if he did have one, he would be too cool to use it :P
> 
> (Forgive me if the sex parts are awful and awkward, I suck at writing smut, even in Italian DD:)


End file.
